


Touch Memory

by tauri



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Angst, Community: 31_days, M/M, POV Second Person, Post-Geosenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 12:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8801242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tauri/pseuds/tauri
Summary: You remember.





	

**Author's Note:**

> 31_days challenge: 01-11-2016 - "The body lives in present tense".

It's thinking in the small things that make you realize just how little you knew about him, in some respects. _Maybe in most_ , you think to yourself, standing on the edge of the crater, one foot up against its tallest ridge as if that might accomplish - you're not sure what.

You don't know the mechanics behind situations like these. Life in Geosenge has gone on mostly as normal, or as normal as can be with the center of the town having become a filled rubble hole. You visit, every once in a while, but nobody really minds; you're the Pokemon Professor of the Kalos region, after all, so if you hang around craters staring in them for long enough, well, it must be for _some_ reason. Research, something like that. Sometimes you bring a clipboard, just to keep up the illusion.

It has been months, so presumably whatever sort of emergency effort that had to be made has since been made. You talk with the residents of the town, sometimes; the area has been fully checked for structural damage, and it was declared safe to continue living there. Perhaps an earthquake could change that, but Kalos is lucky enough to be visited by few of those; for those living in the town, the crater seems just as much a part of the town as the previous stone structures ever were. Parents shield children away from it, and occasionally a dropped object might be functionally lost forever, falling down between the cracks of boulders.

You don't know how many people managed to escape. You assume it must have been some of them - most of them? - because thinking otherwise is almost too much to bear. That group of trainers managed it, and they had as much time as any of the other Team Flare operatives that might have been down there, so, perhaps...? Perhaps they had their own ways in which to escape. Perhaps their underground territory spread further than anybody could imagine, and they would emerge somewhere on the Shalour coastline. Something along those lines.

The fact of a secret organization is what makes it _secret_ , of course. You know that as much as anyone. Perhaps the majority of Team Flare had been there, waiting on the Ultimate Weapon, or perhaps this had been a branch laboratory, staffed only by those who needed to be there. How many members had the organization had? You suppose you'll never know. Those who escaped were probably now doing their best to go back to living normal lives, now. You wonder about that; no man was an island, and not _all_ of the members of that group could have been cut off from their nearest and dearest. How would you go about telling your family that you were involved with an organisation like that? Maybe you wouldn't tell them. How would you explain your time? Lies bred further lies, after all.

It could be, you suppose, that those buried down there would not have funerals. It seems an easy fact to grasp; of course they wouldn't. Individuals who were likely hiding themselves, a situation where no official numbers had been released as to how many bodies were found and recovered (or not, as the case may be)... perhaps the cleanup and rescue teams had their own habits and rituals. Perhaps those likely to be working in the Geosenge base were those who had cut themselves off from any and everybody, and would have no-one to mourn them, or even notice their absence. (These are the things you think about, sat on the grass beside the crater, tapping your pen against the blank sheet of paper clipped against the board.)

Lysandre must have had family at _some_ point, but he'd never talked about that. No human being sprang fully-formed out of nowhere, so he must have had parents, at the very least. You feel that you might have known (although that ' _might_ ' is quite sizeable) if he had had any siblings, but might there have been uncles, aunts, cousins...? Even if he had cut himself off from them all, they could perhaps still be out there. Perhaps it had only been his parents, and perhaps they weren't around anymore, but you _just don't know_ , and that's the worst part. You like to think that he was open enough about his friendship with you that such relatives might know to contact you in this instance, but again, you can't know for certain. Maybe there was nobody, and that was it, _and you were the closest thing he had to anything, Augustine_.

...Or perhaps thinking like that is just another sort of selfishness. _Isn't it fancy, to think yourself that important to a person?_ Maybe you were, but maybe you weren't, and maybe you'll never know. Even in a best-case scenario, you want to believe that Lysandre would have thought about what he'd done, and what he was trying to do - and if he were to show his face in Kalos ever again, then a number of law enforcement agencies would likely take notice of that.

But it could also be that he didn't escape, and his body was either recovered beyond your knowledge, or lies currently somewhere beneath your feet, even as you sit there. And maybe he had no other family members, and nobody else to know that loss, or take responsibility for it. You know that it isn't really common practice to hold funerals for people who would generally be classed as missing persons, and you hate that there's the part of you that knows that that wouldn't be a particularly clever move socially, either; the past few months have taken their own toll, with suspicion and glances and _you were friends with Lysandre, right?... He turned out to be the head of Team Flare, right?... You really didn't know anything about that?_

_You really didn't know?_

_...Really?_

In the cold light of day, you know that there are only really two possibilities: Lysandre escaped, and is presumably on the run, and so you are unlikely to see him again. Or, he died beneath Geosenge, in which case you are guaranteed never to see him again. The practical outcome of either branch is essentially identical, and that's all on you to deal with. You know that. Lysandre is not a figure now likely to inspire sympathy in others, and you understand that, you understand it completely. You didn't know that about him, and perhaps you barely knew anything. Again, that's yours to deal with; those closest to you understand that this would be a loss, but raising the subject is awkward. You don't force it.

Remembering how he touched you brings forth a need keener than anything; that, too, you suppose, is a rational reaction. The hardest part of any failed relationship, you know, is getting used to the new normal. The absence of a presence you were used to, the small and comfortable things you'd worn gently into one another. To know that someone else might then know them as you'd known them - or worse, as you'd _never_ known them. Remembering the touches of past lovers was always a borderline masochistic experience at the best of times, and you're not sure if this is better or worse. Maybe you knew little about his background and nothing about his secrets, but you knew his hands on your body, and you want to believe that that is at least one thing you can be certain of. Your truest knowledge of him, pressed into you by the contact of skin on skin. _That wasn't a lie. It couldn't have been_.

Again, the day-to-day practicality of it is that you'll never know that again. Your body carries the memory of that touch, but that's all it can do; you remember, because you are desperate not to forget.

 _If nothing else, let me at least have this_.


End file.
